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Speaker 1: Hello there, tonight, let's settle in for a quiet hour

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at a village shoemaker's and a sun warm afternoon in

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early autumn. It's the kind of small word happily lose

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a whole afternoon in a long dark bench under the window,

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strips of brown leather, a single boot upside down on

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its iron last, and the smell of leather and wax

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in the air. Long stripes of amber sun fall across

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the worn pine floor, and a black kettle sits cooling

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on a small cast iron stove in the corner. And

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by the way, if you'd like more stories like this one,

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you might want to check out our app It's called

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Tonight and it has fresh stories for you every day,

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so there's always something new to fall asleep to. Plus

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you can hear them in your favorite voice. It's a

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free download the links just below this video. Much happens here,

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that's the heart of it. Before we begin, take a

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moment to settle in. Get comfortable, however that looks for

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you tonight. When you're ready, close your eyes, take a slow,

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deep breath in through your nose, and the long, slow

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breath out one more in and out leather. That is

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the first thing, a warm, dry smell, like an old

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wallet kept for years in a drawer. The door of

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the workshop is propped open with a flat iron weight,

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and the smell drifts out into the lane. You step

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in slowly. The floor is pine worn, pale down the middle,

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and darker at the edges, where the boards are not

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so often crossed. A small bell and a curl of

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iron hangs above the door. It does not ring, the

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door is already open. The bell only sits there, a

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little tarnished, catching one stripe of afternoon sun. The lane

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outside is quiet. A wagon went down it an hour ago,

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and the dust from the wheels has settled long since.

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Now there is only the slow movement of warm air

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through the open door, and the smell of leather, and

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the soft tap of a hammer somewhere further in. You

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stand for a moment in the doorway. Sun falls in

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a long slant across the floor. It catches on a

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thin gauze of dust that hangs in the air. Somewhere

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down the lane. A hen calls once, and then quiet.

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The room is small, whitewashed walls, low ceiling, two beams overhead,

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dark with age, A long wooden bench stands under the

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front window, with the light pouring in across it. Along

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a back wall, low shelves hold rows of brown and

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black shoes, finished half finished, waiting their turn. A leather

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apron hangs on a peg by the side door, brown

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worn pale at the front, where it has been brushed

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against the bench for years. You take another step inside.

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The boards give a small creek under your foot. Then

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the workshop is warm around you, dry, smelling of leather

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and bees wax, and a faint trace of wood smoke

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from somewhere out back. A jar of small iron nails

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sits at the back of the bench against the windowpane.

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The label has been there so long it is hard

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to read. It does not really matter what it says.

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Beside it, a bus timetable is tacked to the wall,

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slightly faded along the top. The air at the doorway

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is warmer than the air further in by degree or two.

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The sun has been on the threshold all afternoon. A

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step further in the cooler air of the workshop meets you,

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settled slow, a little farther on into the room. The

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wood of the bench is warm, where the sun has

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rested on it for hours. The bench is long, made

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of one heavy plank of dark wood, polished by years

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of forearms. Set down on it. Three drawers run along underneath,

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each with a small, worn brass handle. A brown boot

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is set out near the middle of the bench. It

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is upside down on a metal last, a curved iron

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foot shape, with the soule turned up to the light.

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The soul is dark with use and slightly cracked at

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the front edge. The heel is worn down on one side.

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The lace undone hangs loose over the side of the bench.

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The other boot of the pair is set neatly beside it,

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waiting its turn around the boot. The small tools are

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laid out in their places. A short hammer with a

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smooth wooden handle, A narrow knife, the blade darkened in

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the middle from sharpening. A coil of waxed brown thread.

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A shallow tin of brass tacks, the tin itself older

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than most things in the room. A small pot, lidded

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that probably holds glue. There is a square of leather

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to the right of the boot, dark and supple the

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size of a folded napkin. Beside it, a piece of

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chalk worn down to half its length, A short brass ruler,

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a pencil re sharpened so many times it is almost

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too short to hold. The sun lights everything equally, the boot,

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the leather, the tools, the chalk, All of them sit

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in the same warm wash. You move a little closer

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to the bench, not too close, just close enough to

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see the small dark spot at the toe of the

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boot where the leather has scuffed almost through. Some one

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walks a great deal in these boots. You can tell

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by the way the heel has rounded off. One of

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the drawer handles is set on slightly crooked. It was

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put back that way once and never quite straightened. It

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is the kind of thing a person stops noticing after

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a year or so. The tap of the hammer that

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you heard from the lane has stopped. There is a

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movement at the side door, the one with the apron

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on the peg, and a man comes through carrying a

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small folded cloth. He is approaching middle age, brown hair

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beginning to gray at the temple's sleeves rolled to the elbow,

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forearms tanned from working near the open door all summer.

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He nods once at you, the small friendly nod of

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a man who is used to people stopping in afternoon.

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He says just looking, you say, and he nods again

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and goes to the bench. He takes the apron from

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the peg and ties it on. The strings are long

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and faded, and he ties them in a knot at

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the front rather than the back, because that is the

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way he has always done it. Then he sits down

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on the low stool at the bench, in the spot

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where the floor has a slight hollow worn into the boards.

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For a moment, he does nothing. He looks at the

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upside down boot on the last then picks up the

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narrow knife and sets it down again. Having decided against

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it for now, he takes up the short hammer instead

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and turns it idly in his hand. You watch from

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where you stand. The sun across the bench lights one

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side of his face and leaves the other in soft shadow.

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There is a small white scar on the back of

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his left hand, an old one. He pays you no

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particular attention, You are simply someone in the room. After

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a moment, he sets the hammer back in its place

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and reaches under the bench for a wooden box. He

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sets the box on the bench beside the boot and

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opens the lid. Inside are short lengths of new leather

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thick and brown and smelling sweet. He takes one out,

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turns it in the light to look at the grain,

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and lays it across the bench beside the boot. He

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has not begun yet, he is only looking. That looking

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is most of the work. The dog barks twice, far

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off somewhere beyond the green, then quiet again while he

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sits and looks at the leather. The rest of the

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room is quiet enough that your eyes can wander along

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the back wall. The low shelves hold rows of shoes.

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They are arranged loosely by what stage they are at,

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though you would only notice this after a while. On

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the left, three or four pairs that are clearly done, polished,

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laced up, pared neatly. In the middle a few singles

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with bright new soles, but no laces yet. On the right,

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shoes still in pieces, brown uppers without their soles. Two

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gray work boots with their tongues turned out. Above the shelves,

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a coil of leather hangs on a wooden peg, dark

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and rolled tight. Beside it, another coil paler, a long

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strip of black hide hangs straight down to the floor,

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the bottom edge fraying a little. In the far corner

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sits a small cast iron stove. A black kettle sits

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atop of it, empty. A short stack of split wood

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is piled against the wall beside it. None of it

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is needed this afternoon. A wooden chair stands against the

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back wall, with a cushion on the seat. The cushion

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is brown corduroy, faded in the center. Nobody is sitting

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in the chair. It is the chair for customers who

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come in to have a fitting and need to take

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their shoes off. Today it is empty. There is a

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small framed picture on the wall above the chair, a

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pencil drawing of a building, a row of shops in

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some town with this workshop, you think among them. The

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glass over it is a little dusty. It has been

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there a long time. A gray cat is asleep on

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the second shelf from the bottom, between a pair of

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small brown shoes. You did not see her at first.

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She is the same brown as the shoes around her,

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more or less, and her breath is so slow it

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barely shows. The plastic bucket sits under the bench at

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the far end, half full of leather scraps. The clock

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above the side door is an hour slow. Tom has

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known this for years and does not mind. There is

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a soft scrape at the bench. He has set the

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new leather down and turned back to the boot. He

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has decided. He picks up the narrow knife. The blade

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is short, no longer than his thumb, and the handle

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is wrapped with a turn of brown tape near the base.

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He turns the boot so the soul faces him fully

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and brings the knife to the front edge. There is

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no hurry in the way he begins. He sets the

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tip of the knife between the upper of the boot

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and the old soul, finds the seam and presses lightly.

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The old soul comes away from the leather above it

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with a soft, dry sound, like the parting of two

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pages stuck together. He works along the edge, one centimeter

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at a time, slowly evenly. The blade lifts, finds the seam, presses,

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lifts again. The boot stays still on its last. His

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left hand holds the upper steady. His right hand moves

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in small, careful arcs now and then he stops and looks.

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Sometimes he turns the boot a little on the last.

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Sometimes he reaches for a small brass tool, narrow as

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a key, and slides it between the soul and the

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upper to help the parting along, then back to the knife.

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The afternoon sun is on his hands. The light catches

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the edge of the knife. Each time it moves, a

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thin silver flash, gone again at once. The room is

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so quiet that you can hear the small sounds of

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the work, the soft, dry parting of the old glue,

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the little tick of the tool against the brass tacks

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that hold the soul, the brush of his sleeve along

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the bench outside, a single bird in the hedge across

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the lane. He has worked his way half way round

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the boot. He stops to flex his fingers, then begins

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again from where he left off, around the toe and

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down the other side. When the soul at last comes free,

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he lifts it away in one piece and sets it

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on the bench beside him. It is darker on the

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under side than the top, and the heel is worn

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into a shallow curve where the man who owns the

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boot has put his weight for years. He looks at

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the freed soul for a moment, then sets it aside.

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He does not throw it out. He puts it in

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the wooden box beside the bench. The boot, upside down

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on the last, is now bare on its underside. The

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rough under leather, pale and dry. He runs his thumb

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along the edge to feel for any old tack still

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lodged in. He finds one, draws it out with a

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small pair of pincers, and drops it into the tin

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where the tacks belong. The soft sound of the parting

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glue had become a kind of rhythm. Now it has stopped,

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and the room is quieter still a little farther on

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in the work, the smell of new leather rises. As

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Tom takes up the piece he laid out earlier. He

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holds it flat against the underside of the boot to

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check the size, his thumb at the heel and his

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forefinger at the toe. The piece is too large, by

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a few centimeters all around. That is how he wants it.

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He sets the leather down on the bench, takes up

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the worn down chalk, and draws around the boot slowly,

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keeping the chalk close against the leather of the upper

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so the line will be true. When he has gone

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all the way round, he lifts the boot away. There

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on the leather is the pale outline of a sole,

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the wide curve of the ball of the foot, the

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narrowing at the arch, the small rounded heel. He sets

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the boot back on its last Then he takes up

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the knife again, with the chalk lying in front of him.

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He does not cut in one long pass. He cuts

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in short, patient strokes, following the chalk around the toe,

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first where the curve is greatest, then the long edge

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along the outside, then around the heel. The leather curls

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a little as he frees the piece. He turns it

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as he goes, so the blade always pulls toward him.

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The cut edge is clean and pale, slightly damp, looking,

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smelling sweetly of turned hide. When the new soul is

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00:23:13,720 --> 00:23:17,599
fully cut out, he holds it up beside the boot

242
00:23:17,720 --> 00:23:22,519
for a moment, the two of them in the afternoon light.

243
00:23:24,880 --> 00:23:31,680
They match almost. He takes up the knife once more

244
00:23:32,519 --> 00:23:35,799
and shaves a thin sliver from the inside of the

245
00:23:35,880 --> 00:23:45,119
curve of the arch. Then they match exactly. He sets

246
00:23:45,160 --> 00:23:49,200
the new soul down on the bench next to the boot.

247
00:23:50,839 --> 00:23:54,839
Across the room, the cat on the shelf shifts in

248
00:23:54,920 --> 00:24:04,640
her sleep, her tail moving once, then setling again. Outside,

249
00:24:04,720 --> 00:24:10,039
somebody in the lane walks past, slowly, the sound of

250
00:24:10,119 --> 00:24:17,640
footsteps going by the open door, and then gone. Tom

251
00:24:17,799 --> 00:24:25,440
takes up the small lidded pot. He opens it. Inside

252
00:24:25,720 --> 00:24:32,519
is a thick, dark glue, the color of treacle. The

253
00:24:32,599 --> 00:24:39,319
smell sharp but not unpleasant, closer to pine sap than

254
00:24:39,359 --> 00:24:45,799
anything else. He stirs at once with a flat wooden stick.

255
00:24:47,799 --> 00:24:51,359
He brushes a thin layer of glue along the under

256
00:24:51,480 --> 00:24:58,680
leather of the boot, working from the heel forward, then

257
00:24:58,880 --> 00:25:02,519
a thin layer along the upper face of the new soul.

258
00:25:05,160 --> 00:25:09,759
He lays the boot and the new soul side by side,

259
00:25:10,160 --> 00:25:14,160
glued sides up, to let the glue set a little

260
00:25:14,319 --> 00:25:21,279
before they meet. There is no hurry, the glue needs

261
00:25:21,319 --> 00:25:26,640
a few minutes. He rests his hands flat on the

262
00:25:26,680 --> 00:25:32,160
bench and looks out the window at the lane. A

263
00:25:32,240 --> 00:25:36,839
robin lands on the low stone wall opposite, looks once

264
00:25:36,920 --> 00:25:43,519
into the workshop and flies off again. A faint, sweet

265
00:25:43,559 --> 00:25:48,799
smell of warm wax now rises from the bench. The

266
00:25:48,839 --> 00:25:52,599
glue has set the right amount. Tom can tell by

267
00:25:52,680 --> 00:25:58,680
touching it. A fingertip pressed against it leaves no print

268
00:25:59,559 --> 00:26:02,880
and lift. It's a way dry, but the glue is

269
00:26:02,920 --> 00:26:08,559
still tacky. He lifts the boot from its last for

270
00:26:08,640 --> 00:26:12,839
the joining. He sets the new soul on the bench,

271
00:26:13,680 --> 00:26:18,640
glued side up, and presses the boot down onto it. Firmly,

272
00:26:19,960 --> 00:26:25,920
his palm flat against the upper. He holds it there

273
00:26:26,000 --> 00:26:32,160
for some time. The pressing is patient. It is a

274
00:26:32,240 --> 00:26:37,119
slow lean of his weight onto the boot, hands wrapped

275
00:26:37,160 --> 00:26:42,160
around the upper, his head bent low so he can

276
00:26:42,200 --> 00:26:48,519
see the seam come together all the way round. When

277
00:26:48,559 --> 00:26:54,640
he lifts his hands away, the soul is mended. The

278
00:26:54,720 --> 00:26:59,960
new pale edge runs all round the boot almost imperset,

279
00:27:00,079 --> 00:27:06,519
doubly fuller than the upper. That tis correct. The edge

280
00:27:06,559 --> 00:27:12,839
will be trimmed and finished later. He sets the boot

281
00:27:13,000 --> 00:27:20,799
back on the iron. Last now comes the stitching. He

282
00:27:20,920 --> 00:27:25,839
takes up the coil of waxed brown thread. He measures

283
00:27:25,839 --> 00:27:28,440
the length of it against the spread of his arms

284
00:27:29,359 --> 00:27:36,039
twice from hand to shoulder, and cuts it free. He

285
00:27:36,119 --> 00:27:39,160
passes the end through the eye of a curved needle,

286
00:27:40,319 --> 00:27:44,000
draws it through, and pinches the end so it will

287
00:27:44,039 --> 00:27:50,920
not slip. He begins at the heel. The needle goes

288
00:27:51,000 --> 00:27:55,400
through the sole from underneath, comes up through the welt

289
00:27:55,559 --> 00:27:59,240
that runs around the edge of the boot, and turns.

290
00:28:01,599 --> 00:28:06,960
He pulls the thread through firmly, but not hard, and

291
00:28:07,039 --> 00:28:14,200
the stitch lies down flat. Stitch by stitch, he works

292
00:28:14,240 --> 00:28:19,680
around the boot. The needle moves in a small steady

293
00:28:19,799 --> 00:28:35,799
arc down up, pull, down, up pull. The thread makes

294
00:28:35,799 --> 00:28:40,079
a soft creaking sound each time it slides through the

295
00:28:40,160 --> 00:28:46,440
waxed leather, a small dry sound that is very pleasant

296
00:28:46,559 --> 00:28:51,599
in the quiet of the room. He pauses now and

297
00:28:51,680 --> 00:28:56,720
then to wax the thread again, a swift draw of

298
00:28:56,759 --> 00:29:00,960
the line across a small block of beeswax on the bench,

299
00:29:02,599 --> 00:29:08,920
and then resumes. The smell of the wax joins the

300
00:29:08,960 --> 00:29:12,440
smell of the leather and the smell of the glue

301
00:29:12,759 --> 00:29:19,559
in the warm afternoon room. He works round the toe slowly,

302
00:29:20,680 --> 00:29:25,559
where the stitches have to follow a curve, then down

303
00:29:25,599 --> 00:29:31,880
the long inside edge, then up around the heel where

304
00:29:31,880 --> 00:29:37,759
he began the last stitch. He ties off with three

305
00:29:38,079 --> 00:29:44,119
small knots drawn close to the leather, then trimmed with

306
00:29:44,240 --> 00:29:49,680
the knife. He sets the needle back in a small

307
00:29:49,839 --> 00:29:55,599
pincushion that lives on the bench. The thread coil is

308
00:29:55,680 --> 00:30:01,799
wound up and put away. He turns the boot in

309
00:30:01,920 --> 00:30:08,519
his hands once, then again, looking along the line of stitching.

310
00:30:11,519 --> 00:30:16,759
Your hands have come to rest on the bench beside you.

311
00:30:16,759 --> 00:30:22,720
You had not been holding them anywhere in particular. A

312
00:30:22,759 --> 00:30:31,119
footstep comes on to the threshold, and a man's voice says, Afternoon, Tom.

313
00:30:33,960 --> 00:30:38,319
He is an elderly man in a brown jacket, leaning

314
00:30:38,359 --> 00:30:45,480
slightly on a wooden walking stick, white hair, neatly combed,

315
00:30:47,440 --> 00:30:53,119
a flat cap held in his free hand. He does

316
00:30:53,160 --> 00:30:58,039
not come right in. He stays at the door, in

317
00:30:58,119 --> 00:31:01,839
the warm strip of sun that lies across the boards there.

318
00:31:05,000 --> 00:31:12,640
Afternoon mister Hale, Tom says, without looking up from the boot,

319
00:31:14,119 --> 00:31:21,559
just wanted to know if mine were ready Friday? Right

320
00:31:21,599 --> 00:31:29,279
you are? That is all The old man nods wants to.

321
00:31:29,279 --> 00:31:34,240
Tom nods once in the general direction of the workshop,

322
00:31:36,000 --> 00:31:39,279
taps the door, ferring lightly with the head of his stick,

323
00:31:40,720 --> 00:31:48,759
and is gone. The footsteps go off down the lane.

324
00:31:48,799 --> 00:31:53,839
Tom goes back to the boot. The sun has moved

325
00:31:53,880 --> 00:31:59,160
across the floor a little. The long bright stripe that

326
00:31:59,279 --> 00:32:04,279
came in early through the open door has shortened and

327
00:32:04,400 --> 00:32:10,880
bent further toward the window. The bench is still in

328
00:32:11,000 --> 00:32:16,720
full light. The far corner has slipped into a softer

329
00:32:17,079 --> 00:32:23,039
half shadow. The shoes on the shelves there are no

330
00:32:23,119 --> 00:32:29,759
longer quite so distinct. A small breeze comes through the

331
00:32:29,799 --> 00:32:33,920
open door and lifts the corner of a paper on

332
00:32:34,039 --> 00:32:41,079
the bench, a customer's note, probably, and sets it down again.

333
00:32:44,000 --> 00:32:49,079
The cat on the shelf, opens her eyes briefly, looks

334
00:32:49,119 --> 00:32:56,880
at nothing, and closes them. Tom takes up a small file.

335
00:32:58,680 --> 00:33:01,160
He runs it along the edge of the new soul,

336
00:33:01,839 --> 00:33:08,680
where it slightly overhangs the upper evening the edge. Working

337
00:33:08,680 --> 00:33:16,200
from heel to toe and back, the file makes a soft,

338
00:33:16,559 --> 00:33:24,440
fine rasping sound. He does this for some time. The

339
00:33:24,640 --> 00:33:33,640
edge becomes smooth, flush, neat against the welt. He sets

340
00:33:33,680 --> 00:33:39,279
the file down. He takes up a small round piece

341
00:33:39,319 --> 00:33:45,680
of stained wood, a burnishing tool smoothed by years of

342
00:33:45,759 --> 00:33:53,240
steady use, and rubs it firmly along the new soul's edge,

343
00:33:53,559 --> 00:34:00,759
round and round. The leather of the edge arkins and

344
00:34:00,880 --> 00:34:06,759
shines as he works. It is the small finishing motion

345
00:34:07,400 --> 00:34:10,840
that turns a piece of work into a piece of

346
00:34:11,000 --> 00:34:17,400
work that is done. There is the rasp of the file,

347
00:34:19,320 --> 00:34:24,440
then the muffled rub of the burnisher, then a long,

348
00:34:25,239 --> 00:34:33,480
unhurried silence, with nothing in it at all. He sets

349
00:34:33,519 --> 00:34:38,239
the finished boot aside upright on the bench for the

350
00:34:38,280 --> 00:34:44,119
first time. The other boot of the pair has been

351
00:34:44,199 --> 00:34:49,880
waiting all the while at the bench's edge. He brings

352
00:34:49,920 --> 00:34:56,039
it over now, turns it on the last and looks

353
00:34:56,199 --> 00:35:02,960
at the underside. This soul is in a slightly better state,

354
00:35:05,000 --> 00:35:11,039
worn down, yes, but not cracked across the front the

355
00:35:11,079 --> 00:35:17,840
way its partner was even soul. It will need replacing,

356
00:35:19,159 --> 00:35:25,519
since the pair must be replaced together, he sets to

357
00:35:25,639 --> 00:35:32,960
the same work. The knife comes out, finds the seam

358
00:35:35,039 --> 00:35:43,599
parts the old glue. He works around the edge slower now,

359
00:35:43,840 --> 00:35:52,920
perhaps because the afternoon has settled and his shoulders are easy.

360
00:35:53,599 --> 00:36:05,920
The blade lifts, finds parts, lifts again. The room has

361
00:36:05,960 --> 00:36:13,639
the small, steady sound of patient repeated work. When the

362
00:36:13,679 --> 00:36:17,119
soul is free, he sets it in the wooden box

363
00:36:17,239 --> 00:36:22,880
beside the first. The under leather of this boot is

364
00:36:23,000 --> 00:36:30,519
paler than the other, less worn. He brushes a little

365
00:36:30,639 --> 00:36:35,920
dust away with the side of his hand. He cuts

366
00:36:35,960 --> 00:36:42,280
the new soul the same way. The chalk line goes round,

367
00:36:43,719 --> 00:36:51,719
the boot lifts away, The knife follows the line, The

368
00:36:51,840 --> 00:37:00,880
leather curls, The cut edge smells sweet blue. Goes on

369
00:37:04,039 --> 00:37:06,880
the boot and the new soul wait a few minutes.

370
00:37:09,639 --> 00:37:15,280
While they wait, Tom takes a slow breath and looks

371
00:37:15,280 --> 00:37:21,840
at his hands flat on the bench. Brown leather worked

372
00:37:21,880 --> 00:37:27,480
into the skin around the nails, a small old burn

373
00:37:28,280 --> 00:37:33,519
on the side of one thumb. He turns them over

374
00:37:34,159 --> 00:37:42,079
and looks at the palms, then sets them down again.

375
00:37:43,679 --> 00:37:50,840
When the glue's ready, the pressing can begin. He leans

376
00:37:50,880 --> 00:37:56,119
his weight onto the boot, his palms wrapped around the upper,

377
00:37:57,920 --> 00:38:05,639
his head bent low. The soul settles onto the boot evenly.

378
00:38:08,519 --> 00:38:16,599
He holds it for a long count. Now the stitching

379
00:38:19,280 --> 00:38:35,679
down up, pull, down, up, pull, the soft creak of

380
00:38:35,719 --> 00:38:42,679
the waxed thread sliding through leather, the faint draw across

381
00:38:42,719 --> 00:38:48,800
the beeswax block, the small clip of the knife at

382
00:38:48,800 --> 00:38:53,199
the end of the line where the last knots are trimmed.

383
00:38:56,519 --> 00:38:59,480
The two boots stand side by side on the bench.

384
00:38:59,599 --> 00:39:04,960
When he done with the stitching, he runs the file

385
00:39:05,119 --> 00:39:13,639
round the second one too, then the burnisher. The two

386
00:39:13,760 --> 00:39:20,960
edges match. He turns each in the light to see

387
00:39:20,960 --> 00:39:27,519
the line of the new welt all round. He flexes

388
00:39:27,559 --> 00:39:34,679
his fingers, then his shoulders, and lays the curved needle

389
00:39:34,800 --> 00:39:41,440
back in its small pincushion. Tom sets the boots down.

390
00:39:43,639 --> 00:39:49,800
He flexes his fingers again. He lifts the apron away

391
00:39:49,880 --> 00:39:53,519
from his front to let some air in under it,

392
00:39:55,639 --> 00:40:02,000
then lets it fall again. He goes through the side door,

393
00:40:03,920 --> 00:40:08,559
the one with the empty peg on it now and

394
00:40:08,679 --> 00:40:14,000
you hear him in the back room. There is the

395
00:40:14,079 --> 00:40:20,280
small sound of a kettle being lifted, water being poured,

396
00:40:22,719 --> 00:40:29,159
the kettle being set on something, then the soft pop

397
00:40:29,840 --> 00:40:38,039
of a gas ring catching very faint from here. He

398
00:40:38,119 --> 00:40:42,559
comes back a minute later, drying his hands on a

399
00:40:42,639 --> 00:40:50,760
linen cloth. The back room, glimpsed through the open door

400
00:40:50,840 --> 00:41:01,199
behind him is small, a square stone sink, a short

401
00:41:01,360 --> 00:41:07,480
wooden shelf with a brown teapot and two cups, neither

402
00:41:07,559 --> 00:41:14,559
of them matching. A window with a half drawn green blind,

403
00:41:17,559 --> 00:41:21,199
A row of nails along the wall with bits of

404
00:41:21,360 --> 00:41:28,960
leather hanging from them. Beyond you can just see the

405
00:41:29,039 --> 00:41:37,159
corner of a small back garden, green grass, a low

406
00:41:37,400 --> 00:41:43,920
stone wall, an apple tree with one branch leaning down

407
00:41:44,039 --> 00:41:52,840
close to the window. Tom returns to the bench. He

408
00:41:52,920 --> 00:41:57,719
does not pick up the boots yet. He sits and

409
00:41:57,840 --> 00:42:02,199
looks out at the lane through the front window, his

410
00:42:02,400 --> 00:42:09,119
hands flat on the wood. He is waiting for the kettle.

411
00:42:12,039 --> 00:42:17,840
The light through the open door has gone amber, the

412
00:42:17,920 --> 00:42:23,599
white walls have taken on a soft, warm color, and

413
00:42:23,679 --> 00:42:32,039
the shadows have lengthened across the floor. Outside the lane

414
00:42:32,159 --> 00:42:39,800
is the same as it was, only quieter. A few

415
00:42:39,880 --> 00:42:45,159
small birds in the hedge. A cart going by somewhere

416
00:42:45,280 --> 00:42:53,639
at the far end, the sound carrying thinly The hen

417
00:42:53,679 --> 00:42:58,119
from earlier has gone in for the day, wherever she

418
00:42:58,239 --> 00:43:04,639
came from. From the back room comes the faint, thin

419
00:43:04,760 --> 00:43:12,280
whistle of the kettle. Tom gets up without hurry, goes through,

420
00:43:13,920 --> 00:43:18,599
and you hear the kettle taking off the gas, the

421
00:43:18,639 --> 00:43:27,199
warming of the pot. The poor he brings out one

422
00:43:27,280 --> 00:43:33,639
cup full, steaming a little, and sets it on the

423
00:43:33,719 --> 00:43:36,880
corner of the bench, where he will not knock it.

424
00:43:40,400 --> 00:43:45,119
He does not drink it yet, he just lets it sit.

425
00:43:48,480 --> 00:43:51,960
The steam rises slowly from the cup in a thin

426
00:43:52,159 --> 00:44:01,079
column and bends in the warm draft from the open door.

427
00:44:01,400 --> 00:44:04,159
The shelves along the back wall have softened in this

428
00:44:04,360 --> 00:44:10,440
later light. There is a small pair of children's shoes

429
00:44:10,519 --> 00:44:17,719
on the middle shelf, dark red, no bigger than your hand.

430
00:44:21,079 --> 00:44:26,320
They've been there a few days. The label tied to

431
00:44:26,400 --> 00:44:34,519
one of them, paper hand written, has gone a little

432
00:44:34,679 --> 00:44:41,239
curled at the edges. Someone will come and collect them

433
00:44:41,280 --> 00:44:48,760
in the day or two. Beside the children's shoes a

434
00:44:48,800 --> 00:44:56,400
pair of black town shoes, polished, smelling faintly of the

435
00:44:56,440 --> 00:45:02,559
polish from when they were finished. The toll of one

436
00:45:02,559 --> 00:45:08,800
of them is reflecting a small bright square the open

437
00:45:08,880 --> 00:45:16,239
doorway far away in the polish, no larger than a

438
00:45:16,280 --> 00:45:24,440
postage stamp. On the lower shelf, a tall pair of

439
00:45:24,559 --> 00:45:31,239
brown walking boots, the laces in long loose loops over

440
00:45:31,320 --> 00:45:37,360
the tops. The tongues are worn dark where they meet

441
00:45:37,480 --> 00:45:47,760
the laces. A man's boots, used hard but kept clean.

442
00:45:51,320 --> 00:45:55,440
On the upper shelf, an old pair that has been

443
00:45:55,480 --> 00:45:59,920
in for repair so many times the leather has faded,

444
00:46:03,599 --> 00:46:06,480
the shape of the foot inside them has stayed in

445
00:46:06,519 --> 00:46:15,199
the leather. They will be ready by next week. The

446
00:46:15,280 --> 00:46:22,559
gray cat between the shoes is not moved. The pattern

447
00:46:22,639 --> 00:46:25,679
of her fur is exactly the color of the brown

448
00:46:25,760 --> 00:46:33,880
shoes around her. Her one ear, the one toward the room,

449
00:46:35,679 --> 00:46:42,800
twitches now and then in her sleep. A small mousehole,

450
00:46:44,880 --> 00:46:52,719
old long since plastered over and painted over and painted

451
00:46:52,760 --> 00:46:58,639
over again, shows as a faint round shape in the

452
00:46:58,719 --> 00:47:06,679
wall by the floor, near the stove. It has been

453
00:47:06,719 --> 00:47:09,760
a long time since there was a mouse in this workshop.

454
00:47:13,239 --> 00:47:18,559
A single fly has come in at the open door.

455
00:47:19,119 --> 00:47:21,880
It hangs in the air in the warm light for

456
00:47:21,960 --> 00:47:32,039
a moment, then drifts up and out again. A little

457
00:47:32,119 --> 00:47:40,440
farther on the polishing The smell of the polish reaches

458
00:47:40,519 --> 00:47:46,360
you before Tom is fully back at the bench. It

459
00:47:46,440 --> 00:47:55,719
is wax and something else, something almost like turpentine, but milder.

460
00:47:59,440 --> 00:48:03,159
He has taken from a low shelf a small tin

461
00:48:03,360 --> 00:48:13,760
of dark brown polish, a soft cloth, and a stiff brush,

462
00:48:14,079 --> 00:48:20,920
and set them down beside the boots. He opens the tin.

463
00:48:25,039 --> 00:48:31,599
The polish inside is smooth and dark. He dabs the

464
00:48:31,599 --> 00:48:39,400
corner of the cloth into it and begins he works

465
00:48:39,440 --> 00:48:42,880
the polish into the upper of the first boot in

466
00:48:42,960 --> 00:48:54,360
small circles. The leather drinks it in. Where he has worked,

467
00:48:55,000 --> 00:48:59,760
the boot darkens a little and then settles to a

468
00:48:59,800 --> 00:49:08,480
sod oft even brown. He goes round the boot slowly,

469
00:49:10,880 --> 00:49:16,800
then again, then a third time, over the places where

470
00:49:16,800 --> 00:49:26,239
the leather had grown dry. After the cloth, the brush

471
00:49:28,440 --> 00:49:38,480
short brisk strokes one after another. The brush makes a soft,

472
00:49:39,280 --> 00:49:46,000
dry sound on the leather. A faint shine begins to

473
00:49:46,039 --> 00:49:52,239
come up under it. The light from the open door

474
00:49:52,559 --> 00:49:59,199
catches the boot now where before it only fell across it.

475
00:50:03,400 --> 00:50:13,119
He turns the boot, brushes the other side, then the toe,

476
00:50:13,679 --> 00:50:20,639
then back round the heel. He goes over the new

477
00:50:20,800 --> 00:50:29,440
soul's edge once more with the burnisher, to set the shine.

478
00:50:29,639 --> 00:50:34,519
Then he sets the boot down on the bench, upright

479
00:50:34,760 --> 00:50:43,559
on its sole, and turns to the second. The second

480
00:50:43,719 --> 00:50:54,280
goes the same way, the polish, the cloth, the slow

481
00:50:54,480 --> 00:51:07,639
circles the brush, the small dry sound, the shine coming up.

482
00:51:11,800 --> 00:51:17,920
He sets the second boot down beside the first. They

483
00:51:17,960 --> 00:51:24,639
look like a pair again. He picks up the cup

484
00:51:24,679 --> 00:51:34,000
of tea finally and takes a slow sip. The sun

485
00:51:34,079 --> 00:51:38,440
in the lane has dropped behind the row of houses opposite,

486
00:51:40,000 --> 00:51:43,480
and the workshop has gone into the soft even light

487
00:51:45,039 --> 00:51:51,320
that comes just before the lamps would be lit, if

488
00:51:51,360 --> 00:51:57,639
they were going to be lit. He does not like

489
00:51:57,719 --> 00:52:07,280
them to night. He is nearly done. He wipes the

490
00:52:07,320 --> 00:52:12,960
bench with the linen cloth. He puts the knife back

491
00:52:13,039 --> 00:52:21,400
in its place, the hammer in its place, the awl

492
00:52:21,800 --> 00:52:28,840
in its place, the chalk in the small wooden tree.

493
00:52:29,440 --> 00:52:35,880
With the rest of the chalk. He closes the lid

494
00:52:36,000 --> 00:52:43,079
of the glue pot. He coils the unused thread and

495
00:52:43,239 --> 00:52:49,880
lays it in the drawer. The gray cat on the

496
00:52:49,920 --> 00:52:56,440
shelf stretches one paw, then folds it back under herself

497
00:52:58,400 --> 00:53:04,280
and goes on sleeping. He takes off